


Expectations

by allhailgrilledcheesus



Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Multi, found each other in a random bar au, this was for a story competition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-22 21:36:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4851353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allhailgrilledcheesus/pseuds/allhailgrilledcheesus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Living the high life was always hard, especially when everyone expected everything from you. What would happen if someone found out that they could live a life free from them?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Expectations

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my amazing Amy who beta read this for me!!

Expectations. The higher they are the more disappointed you become. The less you believe in yourself, the less you expect from others, the more you seem to dissatisfy the ones around you. Things once did go very well, but sadly pressure has the potential to either form diamonds or crush you.

Nursing a drink of some sort in a bar in some part of the city you grew up in may seem like the only way to escape. You are drowning in the workload your family deems to be natural for someone your age. Youth was the time for folly, not for scripture. Exploration was an idea that constantly toyed with your mind but you never let it get any further than the daydreams that you allow yourself to have. The glass in your hand is now empty; sighing, you signal for another, wondering how many it would take today to get drunk. You say you don’t have a problem, your liver would disagree. 

The music in the bar whines a ballad that you vaguely recognise and the alcohol loosens you enough to hum wistfully along with the dirge. You hear a snicker from beside you. A mess of auburn hair and mirrored sunglasses is talking to someone leaning on the bar. Hackles already raised, you cough your displeasure, your inhibitions melting into the warmth of your stomach. The one leaning on the bar has their back to you, but it gives you a chance to admire how they look. Ebony hair contrasted with ivory skin, well toned from what you can tell through the form fitting shirt. They adjust themselves to be more comfortable on the bar but it seems as if they do it because they know you are watching. The person with auburn hair smiles, aviators preventing you from telling whether it is directed at you. 

You turn back to the wall of drinks behind the bar, feeling ashamed at your blatant admiration of the pair. The light diffracts through the glass, casting a rainbow that you find yourself lost in. Another snicker has your knuckles turning white around the tumbler. No amount of alcohol could ever curb your anxiety. Years of being looked down on by others has given you an inherent distrust in anyone who shows you any sign of affection. Your parents can never know what they have done to you. 

‘You know, staring is considered rude in some cultures,’ you freeze, the red already rising in your cheeks. You see the pair share a thought, a giggle, and the person with ebony hair saunters off towards the bathrooms. You turn to your right, shifting so that you can meet their eye. Blue meets brown, one pair filled with intrigue, the other with confusion. 

‘Thankfully, I am not from one of those cultures,’ In an attempt to be smooth, an elbow missed the bar, causing the person sitting opposite you to nearly fall off their stool. Whether it was an intentional move or an alcohol-fuelled accident doesn’t really matter as you find yourself laughing anyway. Your phone buzzed to demand your attention. You sigh, knowing work is wondering where you are. Lunchtimes were a rare occasion for you to have an illusion of freedom but your phone was the tether that kept you tied to your desk. 

You wave to the barkeep, asking for whatever your new partner is drinking and insisting on paying for it. What good was a pay check for if one couldn’t spend it on pretty little trinkets? You check the time on your watch, you tell people it’s a gift to prevent them from thinking that you’re narcissistic enough to spend that amount of money on yourself. You still have some time, despite what your phone was trying to tell you. The perks of being the heir to a company will never fail to astound you. 

A couple of minutes of schmoozing later, thankful for the god-awful seminars that you were forced to attend to improve your entrepreneurial orating, the tall person with ebony hair returns and drapes themselves over your conversation partner. You can see that they are comfortable with each other, possibly too much for you to continue watching but you can’t seem to tear your eyes away. The way in which they interact is mesmerising, like two fae entrancing a human, trying to get them to join in with their games. The song that they were singing through their interactions was a siren's, beckoning you to join them in their sordid game. You knew that your parents would never approve, but it made the whole situation taste that much sweeter. 

You lean back to watch the show, the alcohol taking an obvious effect now. The weight of work melting into a sea of immorality and sin. The adventures you often dreamed of normally contained grandeur and being alone, away from the hustle of the city, and away from prying eyes. Now, your dreams take a darker, less lonely turn. The aviators, long abandoned in favour of proximity to the person they were involved with, were reflecting the low lights of the bar, sadly ignored for their mid-priced beauty. 

Those blue eyes that the brown ones loved to gaze into met again, the iris nearly shrouded by a pupil dilated by arousal. You don’t need to look in a mirror to know yours are the same. A flash of pearly whites from both of them let you know what’s going to happen. Your heart races, anticipation clouding the fear. Being restrained for too much of your life makes this opportunity all the more enticing. The barkeep kicks the pair out, too much public affection for a near abandoned bar in the middle of the day. They laugh, the cool grey eyes of the shorter person meet yours, even if they are still several inches above you. A nod and you are out of your seat, excited apprehension causing you to wipe your clammy hands on your thighs whilst bouncing on your heels. You exit the bar, the bright afternoon sun nearly blinding you. This adventure was worth tomorrow’s scorn. 

*  
Expectations. The lower they are the more surprised you become. The more you believe in yourself, the more you expect from others, the less you seem to dissatisfy the ones around you. Things now go very well, but thankfully pressure has the potential to either form diamonds or crush you.

Nursing a drink in your favourite bar in the most beautiful part of the city you grew up in seems like the best way to spend an evening. No workload to speak of, seeing as you now own the company and hire people to run it for you. Youth had finally become the time for folly. Your daydreams now turn to darker things, exploration of another kind. The glass in your hand is plucked from your grasp and replaced with the ivory skin you never get tired of touching. You look up and bring your other hand to a face framed by auburn hair, lovingly pulling it down for a kiss before reluctantly pulling away. The pair take the seats either side of you, one hand still occupied you signal to the barkeep. They raise their eyebrows in recognition and get to preparing the drinks they know you want. You sigh, feeling content at the way life has turned out. Who knew that expectations could change within the space of one day many moons ago?

**Author's Note:**

> This was for a story competition which I missed the deadline for. If you squint really close, you can see that there are not gendered pronouns, which was gonna be my angle for the story competition. 
> 
> This is my first ao3 fic so please be kind


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